


the heavy heart I'm holding

by jdphoenix



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, F/M, Female Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Episode: s05e14 The Devil Complex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 12:34:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14081049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdphoenix/pseuds/jdphoenix
Summary: After Fitz is locked up, Daisy gets a visitor.





	the heavy heart I'm holding

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Amber Run's "Just My Soul Responding."
> 
>  **Fair warning:** this is a VERY VERY AU. If you've read my stuff before you won't be surprised, but if you're here just for the skimmons friendship you might wanna have another look at the tags to be sure you're not about to walk into a 'verse with one of your notps.

After four years of training it’s easy for Daisy to ID Simmons by her footsteps when she walks through the door. But after the last four _hours_ , even that quick realization isn’t enough to stop her tensing up just at the sound of the door opening.

“It’s just me,” Simmons says, voice pitched all low and gentle the way it always is when one of them is sick or hurt.

Daisy keeps her back to her and is silently grateful when Simmons takes a seat on the edge of the bed behind her. All that training? Means it’s killing her to have her back to the door but her head is only kind of sort of comfortable when she’s laying on her right side and it just seemed like too much hassle to switch her feet and her head. But now she’s got a Simmons-sized wall between her and the world—not much, but it’s enough.

And for a while that really is it. Simmons just sits there, one of her knees resting gently at Daisy’s ribs while her fingers move through her hair, combing out the knots and easing the ache still clinging to her skull. But no matter how soothing Simmons is, she every so often pulls at hair that pulls at skin that’s covered by the massive bandage and that only reminds Daisy of Simmons cleaning her up and why she had to.

“Where is he?”

If Simmons is surprised by the question, she doesn’t show it. “On the detention level. Davis is guarding him for now.”

“Good. He keeps saying if we’re gonna keep him away from his kid we should at least give him something to do so that’s … good.”

Simmons’ fingers draw along her scalp. Daisy tells herself it’s the pressure that has tears welling in her eyes.

She pulls her sleeve up so she can wipe at her eyes with the heel of her hand. “God, this is so stupid.”

“It’s not,” Simmons says, a fierce edge to her voice. “What you went through today would shake anyone- Sorry. Poor choice of words.”

Daisy forces a laugh. “No, it’s cool.” She opens her hand in front of her face, moves the air in currents between her fingers. The control feels good, even if she didn’t want it back. How she got it though… “I didn’t think he was like that. Even after the Framework I didn’t think he would really- I thought we were-” She wipes at her eyes again. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Truth is, it never mattered. Daisy could pretend when they were in the future, have silly little dreams that didn’t belong in that world. But now they’re back and she knows Fitz and Simmons have had their issues—they never really seemed to recover from her time on Maveth and Hive didn’t help, showing up wearing Daniels’ face and acting like he owned Simmons just because the man had loved her—but nothing like the end of the world to smack some sense into people, right? So whatever Daisy was thinking while Simmons was decades away and dead, it’s no longer relevant.

Simmons squeezes her shoulder once before going back to her combing. Daisy’s hip is starting to hurt, one of the old springs digging in after so long in the same position, but she doesn’t want to move and have Simmons stop so she puts up with it.

“None of you have asked how I managed while you were gone,” Simmons says.

Daisy closes her eyes. While the rest of them were off in the future, Simmons was stranded all alone here in the present. On the run from the military. Public enemy number one. Daisy can only imagine the things she had to do to survive.

“You don’t have to tell us. You’ve heard what the future was like; whatever you did, we did things just as bad, _trust_ me.” Giving reassurance is easy, but once it’s out, the obvious reason Simmons is bringing this up right now starts creeping in. Daisy drags in a breath. “And if you’re gonna tell me that what you did even compares to Fitz _tying me down_ and doing surgery on me while I _begged him_ to stop, don’t even go there.”

Simmons’ fingers slow down and her voice, when she speaks, sounds far away. “No. No, I wasn’t going to say that but you might think so once I tell you.”

Daisy shifts to roll on her back so she can look at her. “Simmons-” Her protest that there’s no reason to go into it—not now, not _ever—_ dies when Simmons grips her shoulder, holding her firmly in place. For a second, Daisy remembers Elena telling her about that Simmons LMD. But no, the rift is closed. Fitz—and Daisy—made sure of that.

“Don’t. I can’t say this if you look at me.” Her hand shakes and Daisy reaches up to cover it with her own. “I was with Ward.”

Oh. Well, that’s-

Daisy’s not sure what that is. Honestly, she hasn’t given Ward much thought lately, has been actively trying _not_ to ever since that fake version of him was her Framework boyfriend. The last time she saw the genuine article was after he helped them stop Ivanov. Then he left, swearing he’d destroy everything that was left of the guy’s operation because, quote, he was Coulson’s mortal enemy, not some lame Russian. He could’ve been faster about it too, stopped that fake Daisy from ruining all their lives by shooting Talbot, but that’s Grant Ward for you.

She tries to wrap her head around Simmons’ news while she shifts forward so her arm’s not pinching her boob, holding onto Simmons’ hand tight the whole time so she knows she’s not trying to pull away. “At least he’s good for something?” she says finally. “I mean that sucks you had to put up with him for—how long did you say we were gone? Six, seven months? But better than military prison, I guess?”

“No,” Simmons says softly. “Daisy, I mean I was _with_ Ward.”

There is no way— _no way—_ that Simmons is saying what Daisy thinks she is.

But then there’s also no way she could mean anything else; Daisy’s known her long enough to know her “I’m talking about sex but I’m trying to be delicate about it” voice.

Daisy spins, throwing her body into an upright position and facing Simmons because-

“ _What?_ ”

And oh, that’s a mistake. The room goes soft around the edges and she’s gotta lean back against the wall or she’s sure she’ll fall off the bed and onto the ceiling.

Simmons is right there to catch her though, holding her steady and poking at her face so she can look at her eyes or whatever. Doctors, Daisy’s so done with them today.

“Are you all right? You should lie down.”

“No, no.” Daisy swats her hands away. The room’s starting to make sense again and her stomach barely even turned on her. She’s fine. “Brain surgery and sudden movements: not a good combination. Now I know for next time a friend decides to go digging around in my skull.”

The joke falls flat but that’s probably Daisy’s fault, she’s not feeling particularly jokey right now.

She peers at Simmons through eyes half-shut against the pounding. All the good that hair combing did has been undone and, worse, Simmons is sitting there looking like a kicked puppy. Dammit.

“You were with Ward?” Daisy asks, keeping her voice carefully neutral.

Some of the tension goes out of Simmons’ shoulders. Not all, obviously, but some. “Yes. And I- I was before as well. While you were gone—off acting as Quake—the team sort of fell apart. Coulson and Mack were looking for you and Fitz was always off with Radcliffe and May had her new team and…” She trails off, her eyes going to the corner of the bed.

“And you had Ward.”

Simmons nods.

“Is that why he came to help us fight Ivanov?”

“I don’t know.” She says it like it’s been bugging her, the not knowing, but she must be used to it—Daisy’s guessing Ward isn’t the most open boyfriend/booty call/whatever gross term they’re gonna apply here—because she reaches forward to take Daisy’s hands and says, “But that’s not why I’m telling you. This isn’t about unloading my guilty conscience.”

“Then what is it about?”

Simmons’ expression goes serious. It was before but … _extra_ serious. Daisy doesn’t like it. “Fitz hurt you. Deeply. And I want you to know that whether you choose to hate him forever or to let yourself go on loving him-”

“Whoa whoa! I am not in love with Fitz!” Daisy’s not sure whether she’s glad for the wall at her back anymore. It’s support, yeah, but she’d kinda like to rear back a little farther from that _totally insane_ statement.

Simmons’ lips curl in a very tiny smile. “Maybe not right now and maybe not ever again, but I’m not blind, Daisy. I remember how worried you were for him in the Framework and I’ve seen the way you are around each other since coming back from the future.”

Daisy shakes her head. The motion pulls at her bandage and she feels fresh air break through one corner. “No. No, that’s nothing. You two-”

“We aren’t like that. Maybe we could’ve been, once, but we’re not those people anymore. And I’m not sorry for that, truly I’m not.”

Daisy looks at her— _really_ looks at her. She’s changed in the time they were apart and mostly Daisy’s been trying to ignore that because they’ve _all_ changed and not all in good ways. (Or any good ways, really. The only positive from their trip to the future was the implant suppressing her powers and that’s gone now.) But Simmons … she looks good. She’s finally gained back that weight she lost on Maveth and, more than that, she’s _happy_. Not right now maybe, but Daisy’s seen her smile more these last few days than she has in all the time since Fitz pulled her through that first monolith. In fact, thinking about it, a lot of those few and far between smiles could’ve been because of Ward too. It’d certainly explain the private grin she wore for most of the mission against Ivanov. (Which: ew.)

“You love him,” Daisy says.

“No,” Simmons insists. “Really, we were never anything-”

“Not Fitz. You’re in love with _Ward_.” Even her surprise can’t keep the accusation completely out of her tone.

Simmons doesn’t flinch. Her mouth thins into a line and she nods briefly. “Yes. I am.”

She squeezes her hands one last time before pulling away, slow enough Daisy knows she could grab her back if she wanted. She doesn’t.

“And that’s why, no matter what you decide in regards to Fitz, you’ll get no judgment from me. If you decide to hate him, I’ll understand. If you decide to forgive him for what he’s done, I’ll understand that too. Neither is the right decision. It’s your life, your heart. Whatever you do with it, I’ll still be—I hope you’ll still let me be—your friend.”

Daisy remembers when Simmons was threatening to kill Ward if she ever saw him again and when Simmons wasn’t sleeping through the night because of the mess Ward left of her while trying to get answers about the monolith. But Simmons has forgiven him all of that and every other horrible thing he’s done to them over the years.

Daisy … is really not ready for that.

She has some more-than-like feelings for Fitz, something she’d be willing to call love-adjacent, but after today she’s just not up for examining them. Maybe it’s hypocritical—not like she doesn’t have plenty of darkness in her too—but she’s too tired and achy to care.

She grabs her pillow and pulls it to the other end of the bed, sinking down onto it so she can lay comfortably and face Simmons and the door both. “So does Ward call you ‘baby’ in bed?”

Simmons groans and falls down alongside her. “I never should have told you.”

“Nope. But now you have so you gotta pay for that truly horrific mental image by giving me all the dirt. So? Does he?”

Simmons nestles a little more comfortably against their shared pillow. “Agent 33 was ‘baby.’ Grant has another nickname for me.”

That is _so much better_. Daisy laughs. A real, honest laugh for the first time since she doesn’t even know when. The smile it leaves on her face sticks around through Simmons’ gossip and it’s still pulling at her lips when she wakes up hours later to face a brand new, hopefully less traumatizing day. It feels good.

 


End file.
